


Their Fingers Run With Blood

by FoundInTheStars



Series: Starmora Week 2019 [2]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hurt Peter Quill, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Movie: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Starmora Week 2019, Team as Family, Waiting Rooms, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-27 02:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20753072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoundInTheStars/pseuds/FoundInTheStars
Summary: The nurse smiled, a stark contrast to the fluorescent lights glaring at them from behind grimy plastic shields. She spoke with a velvety, empathetic undertone—clashing with the loud beeping, muffled sobbing, and squeaky gurney wheels in the Xandarian hospital. She was all too calm, and Gamora wondered how someone could retain any composure being subjected to such a heinous atmosphere everyday. But then again, one could say the same about the Guardians’ lifestyle.Like having to watch your companion collapse after receiving a stray bullet to the chest, for example.Day 2: Recovery / Stay





	Their Fingers Run With Blood

**Author's Note:**

> To quote Peter Quill himself, “Oh man.”
> 
> Prompt number three, everyone!
> 
> 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 / 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘺

“Family of Peter Quill?”

Gamora shot up out of her seat, figure swaying as bouts of exhaustion overtook her. 

She had been sitting in that rigid chair, fingernails clenched into her skin to keep from falling prey to the clutches of sleep. The other Guardians were not able to resist, however, and sat slumped over in their individual seats. She didn’t blame them, it had been a long day, and an even longer night of waiting. Gamora almost sent them back to the Benatar, but it seemed no one was eager to leave without an update.

“That’s us,” Rocket said first as he hopped up out of his seat, baby Groot clinging onto his sleep-matted fur. Gamora half-expected Peter to walk up beside her, cracking a knowing smile paired with a teasing remark,  _ ‘Family, huh? I never knew you felt that way, buddy.’  _

Of course, it never came.

“How is he?” Gamora asked, practically running over to the Krylorian nurse. All traces of fatigue were eradicated from her system, replaced with pure adrenaline that left her wired and anxious. She bit her lip, the faintest taste of copper hitting her taste buds as she swallowed dryly.

“We expect him to make a full recovery. You can see him now if you’d like.” The nurse smiled, a stark contrast to the fluorescent lights glaring at them from behind grimy plastic shields. She spoke with a velvety, empathetic undertone—clashing with the loud beeping, muffled sobbing, and squeaky gurney wheels in the Xandarian hospital. She was all too calm, and Gamora wondered how someone could retain any composure being subjected to such a heinous atmosphere everyday. But then again, one could say the same about the Guardians’ lifestyle.

Like having to watch your companion collapse after receiving a stray bullet to the chest, for example.

“Yes, please take us to see our friend Quill.” 

If Mantis’ troubled and conflicted expression as she leaned against him was not enough, Drax’s subdued ‘please’ was an indication of how fearful they all were. 

The Krylorian nodded and beckoned them down the hall with a single hand. “He had to be sedated for surgery, so he might not be awake or as coherent as usual,” she said.

“As usual?  _ Psht,  _ Quill hasn't been coherent a day in his life,” Rocket quipped. The remark lacked its usual comical disposition, sounding restrained and muted. The raccoon didn't snicker at his own joke like Gamora was accustomed to hearing, but audibly swallowed a lump in his throat instead.

So it was that bad this time.

The other Guardians cast a few looks in her direction as they walked down the hall. Gamora caught Mantis’ sympathetic stare, her face morphing into something akin to dread as she caught sight of Gamora’s blood-stained garments. 

They tried to get her to change, maybe shower and come back once she wiped the evidence of Peter’s near death experience from her skin and clothes. She refused, of course, not wanting to entertain the thought of leaving and risking not being there for an update on his condition. The most she was willing to do was go to the bathroom to wash off her red-caked hands, although in her haste she missed a few apparent splotches along her forearms and beneath her fingernails.

_ “I have to stem the bleeding! There’s too much, he can't—” _

_ “He’s feels pain and exhaustion. We must hurry!” _

_ “No, listen to me, Peter. You cannot go to sleep. If you sleep, you die. Do you understand me?” _

_ “I love you, ‘Mora. I’m sorry, I'm sorry.” _

They finally approached the door to the private room they had reserved for situations like this. Nova Prime had come up with the idea, stating that if the Guardians were brave enough to risk their lives protecting Xandar, the least they could do was ensure them proper care.

“Go on in, I’ll join you all a little later to check on some things,” the nurse said, the smile never leaving her face even in the presence of their desperation.

Gamora nodded, the unspoken leader and spokeswoman for the Guardians when Peter was somehow down for the count. “Thank you,” Gamora said, though her voice didn't sound very grateful, more so a hollow and distracted string of words. She turned to open the door, bracing herself for the pain she knew would follow from seeing him in this condition.

Gamora pushed the door open, eyes following the multitude of machines leading her to where they hooked up to his frail body. He looked far too small in the large bed, his closed eyelids and bruised face illuminated by the harsh light overhead. The cold, colorless gleam on his heart rate monitor decorated the grating spikes and plateaus on the screen, accompanied by the eerily slow beeps that reverberated from it. Gamora sucked in a breath, her nose overwhelmed by the scent of hand sanitizer and hydrogen peroxide. She wanted nothing more than to go back to that morning, choosing to stay in bed where the only scent she could pick up on was Peter’s, his skin warm beneath her cheek.

_ “Just don't—don't forget about me. E-Even if you do move on. It’s okay, just…” _

_ “Stop it. You are not going to die, Peter.” _

Gamora’s feet moved without her immediate awareness, crossing into the room and moving beside him. Her hand hesitated, hovering over his pale face as she contemplated the pain her simple touch could bring. 

She decided to risk it, hand cupping the side of his cheek, not knowing whether to be happy or sad when his reflexes failed to respond to the gesture. She didn't know what she expected; a flinch, a content sight, any of it would have been better than his state of suffocating stillness.

Gamora slid down into the seat beside his bed, the blue cushioning far more comfortable than the stiff chairs in the waiting room. Her chest felt lighter, like seeing him, even in such a disconcerting state, put some of the pieces of her heart back together again.

“Dammit Quill.” Gamora heard Rocket say through bared teeth. He scurried over to another chair, hopping up and adjusting Groot more comfortably onto his shoulder.

She paid the others no attention, busying herself with tender strokes from his forehead down to his bruised cheekbone. Gamora’s eyes drooped, the pull of exhaustion weighing her down. She shook her head, shrugging off the weariness seeping into her bones.

Gamora didn't have to sleep as long as them. Her modifications and species didn't require much rest as their individual species did. But after the chaos of the day, the excess adrenaline in her system wore off, leaving her more tired than she thought possible.

“Perhaps you should sleep. You are very tired,” Mantis said. Gamora finally noticed the close proximity of the other guardian, close enough for their skin to make slight contact. Mantis’ face was screwed up in a traumatized, aghast expression, reflecting what Gamora knew to be her own emotions channeling through the empath. It was like looking into a mirror of her own emotions; if the mirror didn't know how to obscure their emotions from other people.

“ _ Peter Quill! You will not die on me! Do you understand? Peter!” _

Gamora shook her head, “I can’t, you guys go ahead. I can’t.” She was aware of how distant and brittle her drained voice sounded, but she stood by what she said. She couldn't let him wake up in this place without her there with him, awake and coherent enough for the both of them. Gamora leaned over the side of the bed, propping up her head with one arm and holding his hand with the other.

Mantis’ dejected expression remained even after she stepped away from Gamora’s touch, antenna drooping as she cast a quick glance at Peter’s broken body. Gamora did the same thing in turn, eyes wandering over the wires and IVs twisting and embedding themselves in his skin. The machines operating behind him left a bitter taste in her mouth. She knew they were there to help, to monitor, but still…

Peter and machinery didn't mix. Gamora hated her own modifications, hated how Thanos’ wanted to make a machine out of Nebula and herself. Gamora had nightmares about hearing metallic whirring where his heartbeat was supposed to be, and somehow this felt uncomfortably close to that.

She liked him better human, 100% human. Well, 50% really, if they counted the Celestial genes that didn't up and disappear like his powers had. The genes had some advanced healing factor, they speculated, no longer granting him immortality but still speeding up recovery time that would be prolonged for a full-blooded Terran. 

Times like these, Gamora couldn't help wondering if he would have made it this far without them.

-o-

Peter’s consciousness came in short bursts, slowly, and then all at once.

He first became aware of the pressure on his hand, not the pinching he felt on the top, but a warmth wrapped around his fingers—it’s grip loose but comforting all the same. There was a dull throb in the center of his chest, disconnected from the rest of his immediate senses, like his mind was unable to decide whether or not it was worthy of the ache. It brought forth a distant memory of a stabbing pain residing there, making him all too grateful to have the lesser of two evils now.

Except, Peter wasn't quite sure when  _ now _ was, or rather, where he was at all. His head was foggy, and his sore body demanded rest, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he had to do. Peter tried to open his eyes, cracking them open about half way as his head lolled against the pillow.

“Peter?” He heard a voice whisper, muffled in his disoriented state and laced with undertones of hope and caution. Peter tried to get his eyes open to catch a glimpse of the person, managing to open them for a moment before wincing at the light brightening up the dim room. The thin, piercing veil of light flooding the room animated the shadows dancing around the walls, leaving him questioning whether he was awake at all.

“Hey, are you with me?”

Once Peter was able to will his eyes to open, and remain open, he fixed his gaze on the figure to his right. She had her top half leaned over on the bed, hand wrapped delicately around his as she watched him with wide eyes. Her unreadable expression was even harder to decipher with the faint stream serving as their only lighting.

“G’mora.” Peter’s lips curved into a smile, leaning into the gentle touch settling on his cheek. His eyes flickered shut, beaming in the presence of her warmth.

“Baby,” she said, and Peter’s eyes fluttered open again. Gamora didn't use pet names often, but when she did, it wasn't without reason. “Stay awake for me, okay? Just for a little while.”

_ “Stay awake, Peter! Stay, awake!” _

Peter bolted up, a surge of adrenaline from the memory flooding his body. Frantic hands reached up to guide him back towards the bed, and he struggled against them in vain. He lifted himself in an attempt to get up, but a sharp pang sent him deflating back into the pillows.

“No, don't move. It’s okay, you’re in the hospital,” Gamora said into his ear, still whispering softly. “You’re okay.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself, murmuring the last part over and over like an incantation.

“What—”

Peter’s voice broke instantly, sending him into a coughing fit that rattled his lungs and sent shockwaves down his chest. Once the choking settled, he pressed his head back onto the pillow, allowing himself to bite back the pain still afflicting him.

“Drink,” she said simply, offering him a glass of water by placing it against his lips. She tilted it back and he swallowed it down ravenously, as if he hadn't had anything like it his whole life.

“What happened?” Peter’s voice came back to him, rough and raspy, but more audible than he would've thought possible. Something in Gamora broke, causing her to sink down further into the bed from where she supported herself by her elbows.

It was all coming back to him. The shot taking him down, debilitating pain that blinded his senses—

_ Gamora. _

“Before or after you got shot?” Peter was pretty sure she meant it to come out as a fond joke, but her voice hitched and Gamora didn't have time to muffle the sob that escaped her lips. She let go of his hand for the first time in what Peter suspected was awhile, judging by the bags under her eyes, and buried her head in her palms.

“‘Mora,” he breathed out. “I’m here.”

Gamora nodded swiftly, head still encased in her shaking palms. “I know, I just… We almost lost you Peter.” She looked up at him, tilting her head and allowing the tears building to stream down her face.

Peter looked around the room, noticing for the first time the presence of the team, resting more or less peacefully in a row of chairs to his left. He formed a small smile despite himself, rolling his head back to Gamora and gazing up at her longingly.

“Come ‘ere,” was all he said, reaching up to dry her tears before patting the empty space beside him.

Gamora shook her head. “No, I- You need to rest Peter. You shouldn't move.”

Peter maneuvered the upper portion of his shoulders and body over, managing to free up some space with little consequence aside from a brief grimace as his body protested the movement. He patted the mattress again, ignoring Gamora’s disapproving frown.

“You're unbelievable,” she said with a wet laugh, wiping at her face and situating herself beside him as attentive as possible. She was careful not to jostle his injury or dislodge one of the many IVs, feeding him the painkillers which made movement possible in the first place.

“Knew you wouldn't be able to resist,” Peter laughed, his eyes flickering shut as Gamora wrapped her arm around the uninjured portion of his midsection, stroking his arm the way she knew could send him into a deep sleep within minutes.

“Issit safe to sleep yet?” Peter asked, remembering the awful moments where she begged him to stay awake. His eyelids felt heavy, her touch inching him closer to the dreamless sleep he craved.

“Yes, Peter. You’re okay, I’ve got you.” Gamora nuzzled against his neck and collarbone, placing a lingering kiss over the spot she knew she could feel his pulse.

“An’ you’re gonna stay?” Peter murmured into her hair, breathing in the scent of her and feeling unconsciousness creeping up on him.

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Me: *uploads new work*  
Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending  
You guys: “Ah shit, here we go again.”
> 
> I WILL be writing something fluffy and light very soon. I promise it’s coming, just not as soon as you might think. I think I might be incapable of writing happy things, but we’ll see! I may or may not have a few ideas.
> 
> As always, please leave kudos, reviews, or drop in your favorite quotes!


End file.
